Page 47 of Forced Bratva Wife

“I don’t want him to be fucking smart, Ivan.” I knocked back the rest of my scotch, the burn running down my throat doing nothing to ease the fire in my veins. “You get a look at any of the people he was meeting?”

Ivan shook his head, and I could see his own frustration there. “No, they didn’t leave their car. Nice model, though, not flashy, good engine.”

“Dammit.” With another slam of my fist, Parker gasped lightly, and I looked over at her, his fucking daughter. I wanted to be angry with her. If she’d been anyone else, one of Pavel’s lackeys, I’d have her tied to a chair and offering up everything that little head could.

But she wasn’t just anyone. She was Parker, and despite everything I stuck to my entire life, I’d pulled this woman into the fold with me. I wanted revenge against Pavel for myself, but I also wanted it for her.

“Do you know anyone he might be talking to? From those special meetings?”

Her eyes went wide, her lips parting slightly, and I could see the distress behind the green of her stare. She looked between the three other men seated with us, and there was obvious apprehension there.

“Umm…No. I really…Only accents that I mentioned.”

She looked to Ivan, who seemed a bit surprised that she actually had the balls to address him, which, of course, I enjoyed way too much.

“Did anyone sound like they were Irish or Scottish? Or maybe Italian?”

Ivan cocked his head, thinking back. “Perhaps. Never got to hear any of the higher-ups during the actual meetings, but we were driving through Irish territory at some point.”

It was something, but it wasn’t fucking enough. I sighed, shaking my glass for a refill from the server. They came over straight away, and I had them leave the bottle.

“Not concrete enough.” I regarded Ivan and then glanced at his brothers. “Drop the tail on any family activity that isn’t Pavel direct meetings. I want you on him like flies on shit. Follow every damn move the fucker makes. We’ll get back to asking around town if you don’t catch anything.”

Ivan cleared his throat and nodded, resting his elbow on the table and propping up his chin with his hand. “He’s got something coming up. The men around him have been talking about it. We'll keep a close eye on him. You willing to have a bit of cleanup if we can get in before or after?”

Missing members of Pavel’s crew could alert him but I wanted that information. Whoever he was meeting with was clearly a bigger threat to the Vadims than we all realized. They were probably just using Pavel to hack away a few chips from us while they planned for a bigger attack.

“Keep it tight. I don’t want a commotion. Pavel can’t see you.”

“Understood, boss.” Ivan rolled his lips across his teeth, then took the toothpick out from one of the appetizers and gnawed on the thin wood.

I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t let up. I need every fucking detail you can scrounge up. Got it?”

“Of course.” Ivan and the boys stood up from the table, exiting through the curtain of beads with a final, “You know where to mail the check.”

Chapter 22 - Parker

I’d seen Lev frustrated. I’d seen him pretty damn pissed off and freaked out by the state of his men. I’d never seen him like this.

Lev was boiling with barely restrained fury, the vein in his temple throbbing and his hands endlessly balled into fists. And it was all because of my father.

Not a small amount of guilt permeated my blood. I wasn’t responsible for any of this, and they were a bunch of organized crime families. I had absolutely zero reason to feel bad for them, and still…I felt bad because I didn’t enjoy seeing Lev so upset.

And, of course, I didn’t want to consider that too much.

Regardless of my understandable concern for my mental state, my chest still pinched at the thought of my father pulling one over on Lev and his family, using them and trying to start something for himself with money he most certainly didn’t earn.

I also knew that a large portion of my own anger at Pavel was tied to the fact that the man had raised me and neglected to mention any of this. He’d found plenty of time to beat me for just looking at him wrong, but actually being a father was apparently too time-consuming. Or maybe he just hated me from the moment I was born?

My own rage was there, but it was it was a quieter type than Lev’s.

“This fucker.”

Lev’s voice was tight, and he was just staring at the front door where the men he’d met with exited. They were terrifying, and while two of them hadn’t spoken a word, their menacing stares still did plenty to put me on edge.

“I don’t know if it will be helpful, but my father does like those massage parlors in Chinatown.”

Snapping his attention to me, Lev furrowed his brow, frowning. “What?”

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